Lay down here and wrap us now
In your black linens that have my drink
In red, darker spots. From the last time I came here
And threw and spilled whatever I had.
Just spread the carpet on the patio, that
We so graciously filled with all the stuff
You didn’t need, and shit that I’d left for the times not yet decided.
Graze your arms with my cotton sleeve,
and let me feel
The toxins running through you or I’ll walk out. Because when you open your eyes
The next time, I won’t be here making you
Tea again. I’ll be drowning someone else
in wine
That I’ll borrow. I’m not your pills
To keep you from waking up.
being dead, but just almost.
Dead to the show, but alive in the lucidity.
Of being aware of the existence of infinite suns and moons,
Knowing how tiny this orb of chaos is,
But still pretending to ignore the abyss.
And being vague in this limbo.
Be real to me,
just this once. We’ll cut your veins open
and let the poison fill up, in my glass flask
Or the red solo cup. The kinds who are the witness, to heartbreaks and tears
and teenage mistakes. In the boxes of momentary obscurity
and mattresses made of pride.
We’ll sip that bitter blood, and sway our limbs.
To the sounds of The Backstreet Boys playing secretly,
in the distance.
Just enough for your hums to be audible and
For the liquid to sweeten in its aftertaste. You’ll drink away,
and that face will be soiled with the marks,
Don’t worry, they’ll be gone with me.
The marks of insecurity and all the things uncertain,
The weave of the yellow sweater you wore
To the beach because you didn’t want to be ogled in confusion
I could chain it up, with my own flowing locks of uncertainty.
Or we could burn it with the memories that no one
Wanted or needed, the images that would’ve looked better in the films. The Polaroids we
got for our 2nd,
From the thrift store down in the plaza. Where insecurity loomed almost as large as the skyscrapers,
Touching the clouds, symbolically as always.
I just wanna dance, sway the hurt away. Just this one time
I swear. I admire the moon for its heroics,
And strength.
Of standing alone and gazing from behind the blinds,
But baby, I’m not a rock and I can’t keep dancing alone.
See me here, and see me now.
We’ll kiss in the starlight and call the moon names.
We’ll swear at the sea and curse the moon,
For it knows it’ll be there. Longer than
the forever that young hearts promise to be. We’ll shout at the sand
for its romance with the sea.
We’ll smirk, at the stolen kisses
That the moon sends, every now and then
Making the sea dizzy and wavy
With the ebb marking the anguish.
Because we’re clichéd
and as star-crossed lovers do,
We’ll wonder where do all the lonely people go,
We’ll curse our signs, we’ll abuse our times.
We’ll call out, for all its love, this generation of roses and sunsets.
For teaching our lost bees, that love is old polarized pictures;
of wine in your bag and lights in mine.
That it’s not a scar
that burns when you put it under the tap. For making it a pink sunset,
when it’s really a constant storm with patches of drizzle.
In a marshland full of mud that’ll cover you.
But we’ll forgive them tonight, and take chugs,
Of a cocktail of lies.
We’ll slow dance on that
Elliot Smith hit, and whisper the truths that
Made us old and retro. The sepia filled noons,
And the content silences which didn’t need conversations.
Because this whisper filled silence won’t last long.
The stars will die, and our shared adoring
of the sky will die,
Yet again.
I won’t be making you tea, and the sheets will be cold again. The patio will be empty, and the truths won’t be told again.
We’ll be apart,
but we’ll finally be old again.
Abyss 